TMYM 08

Chapter 8

“Eile?”

Before he knew it, Eile was right in front of Lys, standing on tiptoe and pressing a hand to his forehead.

“Young master, are you feeling sick?”

“—!”

Startled by the sudden warmth, Lys flinched and stepped back. But Eile didn’t remove her hand—she just followed him and checked again.

“Your face is red. Your ears too… but you don’t have a fever.”

“That’s… because of you.”

“Me?”

Hearing she was the reason, Eile’s blue eyes turned a little hurt.

I already have to write an incident report—no more mistakes, she thought, and her expression briefly fell. Lys’s violet eyes flickered.

“Most people get surprised when they see someone half-naked.”

“…Ah.”

Only then did Eile realize her mistake and roll her eyes.

I see bodies like that every day—being surprised would be weirder!

It was her upbringing. Black Rose had far more men than women, so everyone around Eile was male.

“Leg day today!”
“Protein! Protein!”
“Eile, I bulked up—look at these abs. Awesome, right?”
“Get lost. I said, get lost.”

After years of living together like family, she’d seen them all countless times. “Just a bare chest” didn’t shock her at all.

“Young master, I was surprised.”

“It’s too late, Eile.”

Her quick cover didn’t work. Clicking her tongue inwardly, Eile reminded herself: If I don’t act like a normal girl my age, he might get suspicious. Be careful. She quietly helped Lys get dressed.

“Eile, we’re going to the fighting arena today.”

Her hands paused on his buttons. The arena was a brutal place of endless fights—hardly where an underage noble should go.

“May I ask why?”

“Someone said, ‘What’s the point of money? Hire bodyguards with it.’ So I’m going to hire some.”

“What? Who dared say something so rude to you, young master!”

Who was that idiot? Eile frowned—then a memory popped up:

What’s the point of being rich? You’re too weak. Don’t go around alone. Hire guards with all that money.

…It was me!? She forced a smile, screaming silently inside. She never imagined he’d remember that.

Report note: Target—pettier and more stubborn than he looks.

Eile hid her awkward grin and let go of his collar. “Then I’ll prepare breakfast.”

“Mm.”

She closed the door and headed toward the dining room to check on the meal.

“…The arena, huh.”

The target is “Cassio.” They’re so bold and arrogant they don’t even keep basic guards at the mansion. And now, just because of one assassin’s comment, he’s going to the arena to hire bodyguards?

What is he thinking?

She kept a calm face, but the plan was full of questions. Cassio’s name alone was a threat; why would he need guards?

I haven’t seen his power myself, but based on the intel, he’s definitely not weak. They’re called ‘monsters’ because no one survives after seeing their power.

Then why was he losing in the forest? Is he too young to use it yet?

If so, hiring guards makes sense after nearly dying once.

“…Let’s watch a bit longer.”

Keeping in mind the chance he didn’t have—or hadn’t awakened—the “monster” power, Eile stepped into the dining room.

Knock, knock.

At Lys’s reply, the door opened. Early that morning, Damon came in carrying a thick file and bowed to Lys’s back as he looked out the window.

“Young master, the cleanup of the assassins from the Black Forest is complete. They were human traffickers. We chopped the bodies and scattered them under the cliff; we mailed torn scraps of clothing to their families.”

Torn cloth wouldn’t prove life or death—cruel, but sending fingers wasn’t possible given how ruined the bodies were. The one-sided slaughter was obvious.

“As for your other instruction, the process is complex and will take time. I’ll push it through as fast as possible.”

Lys only gave a slow nod. Damon didn’t leave. He hesitated, then spoke.

“…If you’d told us earlier that the ‘angel’ from the forest is an assassin—and that she came here—we would have taken special care.”

He’d learned Eile’s identity while carrying out Lys’s private orders last night. Lys wasn’t the type to explain every move, but something this big should’ve been shared, especially with Lys’s life at stake.

“Well, I hadn’t seen it myself yet. Didn’t think she’d really come all the way here.”

Lys answered lightly, but Damon could tell that wasn’t the face of someone who didn’t know.

“And you would’ve made a fuss.”

“Th-that’s…”

His dark-blue eyes wavered. True—if warned in advance, he wouldn’t have stayed quiet. What sane aide would allow an assassin to stick close to his lord?

“Is there a problem?”

Lys looked calm, as if to say: now you know—enough.

The problem is, it wasn’t just late, Damon thought.

Lys had kept quiet until Eile settled into the mansion—in other words, until the window where she could be caught and kicked out had passed. It had only been two days, but for a hit-and-run assassin, that was more than enough time.

By now, the mansion’s floor plan is probably selling for a high price to informants.

Damon decided he’d have to raid the black market soon.

“It’s too dangerous to keep, of all people, a Black Rose assassin by your side. Why make her your exclusive maid?”

“Because she’s like a bug.”

“…Pardon?”

Damon’s eyes flew wide. “Angel” one moment, “bug” the next?

“If it’s in front of me, it’s annoying; if it’s out of sight, it’s troublesome.”

There was no malice in his lazy tone—he meant the metaphor literally.

Only then did Damon understand.

“If it’s in my line of sight, it bothers me.”

Lys’s mouth curved gently.

“And killing a bug is no big deal.”